Killing Three Birds with One Stone

by Lisa Hansel
November 4th, 2014

The Fordham Institute’s Aaron Churchill has an interesting new post weighing the merits of state-mandated testing in science and social studies. He notes the cons—like the minimal added information on school quality given the high correlations between scores on science and reading tests—and the pros—like reversing the narrowing of the curriculum driven by the high-stakes emphasis on reading and math. Then he sets forth four options (and ultimately recommends his third option):

1.) Keep the status quo. This would ensure that social studies and science are tested, but in non-consecutive years (e.g., science in grades 5 and 8). Yet the status quo still does not compel schools to treat these subjects as equal partners with ELA and math.

2.) Eliminate testing in social studies and science. This approach would reduce the cost of testing in these areas, which gives us little new information about student achievement for school-quality purposes. However, this option would likely encourage even more focus on ELA and math and would require a waiver from federal statute which presently requires science testing at least once in elementary, middle, and high school.

3.) Increase testing in social studies and science to the same frequency as math and ELA (i.e., test these subjects annually in grades 3-8). This would balance schools’ incentives to treat each subject equally, but at the cost of more time and money. From an information perspective, although little additional information is yielded in terms of student proficiency, annual testing could help analysts construct growth (i.e., “value-added”) measures for these subjects.

4.) Decrease testing in math and ELA to non-consecutive grades to match the frequency of social studies and science (e.g., test math and ELA in grades 4 and 6, not consecutively in grades 3-8). This would also balance schools’ incentives to treat subjects equally, but at the cost of less information and accountability. It would also require federal action to grant Ohio relief from consecutive-year-testing mandates in math and ELA in grades 3–8, or more likely, a rewritten federal law that governs state accountability (No Child Left Behind).

I’d like to offer a fifth option that assesses science and social studies yet has fewer tests: Draw the topics for the reading comprehension tests from the science and social studies standards. This blog recently explored the many drawbacks of current reading comprehension tests. In short, they contain a random smattering of “common” topics and topics that ought to be taught in school, but since they are not tied to any specific content that we can be certain has been taught, they inevitably privilege students who have acquired broad knowledge (usually at home).

The only way to construct truly fair reading comprehension tests is to ensure that the passages are on topics that have been taught in school. Since states’ English language arts standards usually do not specify which books, poems, short stories, etc. to teach in each grade, ELA standards are a poor guide for test developers concerned with equity. But states’ science and social studies standards usually do specify some core content to be taught in each grade. The obvious path forward is to construct reading comprehension tests that assess language arts skills using the science and social studies content specified in the standards. After all, skills depend on relevant prior knowledge, so such tests would give a more accurate picture of schools’ impact on students’ language abilities than our current random-content tests. And for the cost and time of just one test, we would have a decent gauge of three subjects.

Even better would be to draw the topics for passages on reading comprehension tests from science, social studies, art, music, geography, and civics standards. Such tests would (1) induce schools to develop a broad, content-rich curriculum and support teacher collaboration, (2) reduce the impact of the home on students’ scores, (3) build the knowledge and vocabulary that is essential to literacy, and (4) be the foundation for an accountability system that requires fewer tests yet still ensures that standards are being met.

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Reading tests with science and social studies content that had been taught would be more equitable and more interesting. Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

Smarter Balanced Confuses Fairness and Validity

by Lisa Hansel
October 15th, 2014

Over the past two weeks, we’ve looked the ETS guidelines for fair assessments that PARCC adopted, as well as a sample item from PARCC. Now let’s turn to the “Bias and Sensitivity Guidelines” ETS developed for Smarter Balanced. While I can’t say that ETS’s guidelines for Smarter Balanced contradict those adopted by PARCC, they are different.

In the introduction, validity and fairness are equated: “if an item were intended to measure the ability to comprehend a reading passage in English, score differences between groups based on real differences in comprehension of English would be valid and, therefore, fair…. Fairness does not require that all groups have the same average scores. Fairness requires any existing differences in scores to be valid” (p. 6).

By this logic, since youth from higher-income homes, on average, have more academic and common knowledge than youth from lower-income homes, the test that conflates reading comprehension ability with opportunity to learn is perfectly fair. Valid I can agree with. Fair I cannot.

A couple pages later, further explanation is offered (p. 8):

Exposure to information

Stimuli for English language arts items have to be about some topic…. Which topics and contexts are fair to include in the Smarter Balanced assessments? One fairness concern is that students differ in exposure to information through their life experiences outside of school. For example, some students experience snow every winter, and some have never experienced snow. Some students swim in the ocean every summer, and some have never seen an ocean. Some students live in houses, some live in apartments, some live in mobile homes, and some are homeless.

Even though curricula differ, the concepts to which students are exposed in school tend to be much more similar than are their life experiences outside of school. If students have become familiar with concepts through exposure to them in the classroom, the use of those concepts as topics and contexts in test materials is fair, even if some students have not been exposed to the concepts through their life experiences. For example, a student in grade 4 should know what an ocean is through classroom exposure to the concept, even if he or she has never actually seen an ocean. A student does not have to live in a house to know what a house is, if there has been classroom exposure to the term. Similarly, a student does not have to be able to run in a race to know what a race is. Mention of snow does not make an item unacceptable for students living in warmer parts of the country if they have been exposed to the concept of snow in school.

Let’s pause here: “Even though curricula differ, the concepts to which students are exposed in school tend to be much more similar than are their life experiences outside of school.” Maybe. Maybe not.

It might be the case that all elementary schools teach snow, oceans, houses, races, and deserts. But does Smarter Balanced really test such banal topics? No. As far as I can tell from its sample items, practice tests, and activities for grades three to five, Smarter Balanced (like PARCC) tests a mix of common and not-so-common knowledge. Passages include Babe Ruth, recycling water in space, how gravity strengthens muscles, papermaking, the Tuskegee Airmen, tree frogs, murals, and much more.

The sample items strike me as comprehensible for third to fifth graders with broad knowledge, but I am highly skeptical that we can safely assume that children are acquiring such broad knowledge in their elementary schools.

As Ruth Wattenberg explained in “Complex Texts Require Complex Knowledge” (which was published in Fordham’s Knowledge at the Core: Don Hirsch, Core Knowledge, and the Future of the Common Core), students in the elementary grades have minimal opportunities to acquire knowledge in history and science. Reviews of basal readers in 1983 and 2003 revealed that they contained very little content. This would be a lost opportunity, not a serious problem, but for the fact that elementary schools tend to devote a substantial amounts of time to ELA instruction, and very little to social studies and science instruction. Wattenberg’s table (p. 35) should be shocking:

Grade and subject 1977 2000 2012
K–3 social studies 21 21 16
4–6 social studies 34 33 21
K–3 science 17 23 19
4–6 science 28 31 24

Even worse, Wattenberg found that “When elementary teachers were asked during what time period struggling students received extra instruction in ELA or math, 60 percent said that they were pulled from social studies class; 55 percent said from science class.”

In their home environments, the schools they attend, and the curriculum to which they are exposed, lower-income children do not have an equal opportunity to learn. As Smarter Balanced guidelines state, the assessment is fair “if students have become familiar with concepts through exposure to them in the classroom.” That’s a big if.

Making matters worse, Smarter Balanced (like PARCC) asserts that it’s just fine for some kids to have to learn during the test. Returning to the “Bias and Sensitivity Guidelines” (p. 8):

Information in the stimulus

A major purpose of reading is to learn about new things. Therefore, it is fair to include material that may be unfamiliar to students if the information necessary to answer the items is included in the tested material. For example, it is fair to test the ability of a student who has never been in a desert to comprehend an appropriate reading passage about a desert, as long as the information about deserts needed to respond to the items is found in the passage.

Last week, we explored how difficult it is to learn from one passage and how greatly such test items advantage students who already know the content that the passage is purportedly teaching. Smarter Balanced clearly disagrees with me. Here’s the introduction it its fourth grade Animal World activity:

The Classroom Activity introduces students to the context of a performance task, so they are not disadvantaged in demonstrating the skills the task intends to assess. Contextual elements include: an understanding of the setting or situation in which the task is placed, potentially unfamiliar concepts that are associated with the scenario; and key terms or vocabulary students will need to understand in order to meaningfully engage with and complete the performance task.

Please take a look at the activity—it assumes an enormous amount of knowledge. Even if it did not, the notion of learning and immediately demonstrating ability flies in the face of well-established research on human’s limited working memory capacity. There’s no getting around it: the students with relevant prior knowledge have a huge advantage.

One (sort of) positive note: I am cautiously optimistic that Smarter Balanced’s computer adaptive testing will help—a little. Here’s how it’s described:

Based on student responses, the computer program adjusts the difficulty of questions throughout the assessment. For example, a student who answers a question correctly will receive a more challenging item, while an incorrect answer generates an easier question. By adapting to the student as the assessment is taking place, these assessments present an individually tailored set of questions to each student and can quickly identify which skills students have mastered…. providing more accurate scores for all students across the full range of the achievement continuum.

In a hierarchical subject like math, the benefits of this adaptation are obvious. In reading, adaptation might help, but it might be misleading. Once a student has mastered decoding, what makes one passage “easier” to comprehend than another is driven primarily by the topic. If the student knows a lot about the topic, then factors like rare vocabulary (which isn’t rare to the reader with the relevant knowledge) and complex sentence structure are of little import. If a student does not know about the topic, then making the vocabulary and sentence structure easier will only help a little. The main way in which adaptive testing might be helpful is in varying the topics; “easier” passages would consist of more common topics, while more “challenging” passages would consist of less common, more academic topics. Then, if we examined the results carefully, we might see that a child lacks essential—teachable—academic knowledge.

Yet, I am only cautiously optimistic because the knowledge that drives reading comprehension is accumulated more haphazardly than hierarchically. One can have some academic knowledge while missing some common knowledge. A student whose grandparents lived most of their lives in Greece may know a great deal about ancient and modern Greece and be ready for a highly sophisticated passage comparing and contrasting ancient and modern Greece. That same student may have no knowledge of China, gravity, Harlem’s Jazz age, or other topics that might appear on the test. Without assessing topics that have been taught, I see no way to truly gauge a students’ comprehension ability (or what the teacher or school has added).

To reinforce the most important message—that comprehension depends on knowledge, and thus schools must systematically build knowledge—the tests need to be tied to the content taught or the high stakes need to be removed so schools will no longer take time out of regular instruction for test preparation.

PARCC Demonstrates the Benefits of Broad Knowledge

by Lisa Hansel
October 8th, 2014

Last week I explored the “ETS Guidelines for Fairness Review of Assessments.” These guidelines were adopted by PARCC, so I decided to take a look at PARCC’s sample items for English language arts. (PARCC is one of the two consortia of states with massive federal grants to create assessments aligned with the Common Core State Standards. Smarter Balanced is the other consortium; ETS developed somewhat different guidelines for it—I’ll take a look at those next week).

The knowledge demands in PARCC’s sample items are very broad, from cougars to Amelia Earhart to DNA testing. While I am happy to see some substantive questions—and hopeful that such test items will reinforce the standards’ call for systematically building knowledge with content-rich curriculum—I worry about the fairness of these assessments given how they are being used.

As I mentioned last week, it would be perfectly fair to have test passages on topics that had been taught. But, since the test developers do not know which topics are taught in each grade, they have to assess “common” knowledge. Due to well-documented differences in opportunities to learn at home and at school, some children know a good bit more common knowledge than others.

Let’s take a look at one of PARCC’s sample items for third grade. Three questions are asked based on the 631-word passage “How Animals Live.” There’s a typical main-idea question paired with a supporting-evidence question, and then a narrower question that assesses the “skills of rereading carefully to find specific information and of applying the understanding of a text.” Here’s the first section of the passage:

What All Animals Need

Almost all animals need water, food, oxygen, and shelter to live.

Animals get water from drinking or eating food. They get food by eating plants or other animals.

Animals get oxygen from air or water. Many land animals breathe with lungs. Many water animals breathe with gills.

Animals need shelter. Some animals find or build shelter. Other animals grow hard shells to protect themselves.

Many words here are undefined: oxygen, shelter, lungs, and gills. Are these words common to all third graders? Probably not, but much of the content is likely familiar to the vast majority of third graders—and perhaps enough content is familiar for most third graders to grasp the section (if not every word). Nonetheless, children who have learned about oxygen, shelter, lungs, and gills start out with a big advantage. They are reading and comprehending more quickly (which is extremely important in a timed test), and they are comfortable as they move into the more difficult content in the rest of the passage.

Here is the second section, and the beginning of the third:

Ways Of Grouping Animals

Animals can be grouped by their traits. A trait is the way an animal looks or acts. Animals get traits from their parents. Traits can be used to group animals.

Animals with Backbones

Animals with backbones belong to one group. A vertebrate is an animal with a backbone. Vertebrates’ backbones grow as they get older. Fish, snakes, and cats are all vertebrates. Vertebrates can look very different.

Let’s ignore the stiff, unengaging style. What really concerns me is the delusion that it is fair for content to be learned and applied during a high-stakes assessment. (As I noted last week, I do not dispute that the assessment is valid and reliable, so my concerns are with accountability policies, not really with this type of assessment.)

Since a definition of trait is given, it’s clear that some significant portion of third graders is not expected to know that word. Now imagine this is the first time you’ve encountered trait and examine the text:

A trait is the way an animal looks or acts…. Traits can be used to group animals…. Vertebrates can look very different.

What is a third grader to make of this? Clearly, vertebrates are not grouped by how they look.

A trait is the way an animal looks or acts…. Fish, snakes, and cats are all vertebrates.

Clearly, vertebrates are not grouped by how they act. How is the backbone (which is not defined) a trait, since it does not seem at all related to how all these animals look or act?

Making matters worse, understanding trait is essential to correctly answering the main-idea and supporting-evidence questions.

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Do these vertebrates look or act alike?
(Image courtesy of Shutterstock.)

The fact is, vocabulary is not learned by being given a definition. Definitions can be helpful, but they are always incomplete. Words are learned through multiple exposures in multiple contexts. Even with simple words, multiple contexts are necessary: What, exactly, makes hoagies and gyros and PB&Js all sandwiches? I can’t even attempt a concise answer—I just know a sandwich when I see one.

Third graders who have had a unit on vertebrates and invertebrates will breeze through this passage; its inadequate definition of trait won’t matter. But students relying on this definition will surely be at least a little confused, possibly totally lost. The assessment will accurately tell us that children without knowledge of traits have limited comprehension of this passage—but it will not accurately tell us anything about their teachers or schools, for no one alerted the educators that the test would measure knowledge of traits.

Reading Test Developers Call Knowledge a Source of Bias

by Lisa Hansel
October 1st, 2014

You might expect to see a headline like this in the Onion, but you won’t. The Onion can’t run it because it isn’t just ironic—it’s 100% true.

A few years ago, a researcher at one of the big testing companies told me that when developing a reading comprehension test, knowledge is a source of bias. He did not mean the obvious stuff like knowledge of a yacht’s anemometer. He meant typical K–12 subject matter.

Since reading comprehension depends chiefly on knowledge of the topic (including the vocabulary) in the passage, the student with that knowledge has a large advantage over the student without it. And since there have always been great educational inequities in the United States, students’ knowledge—acquired both at home and at school—is very strongly correlated with socioeconomic status.

A logical solution would be to test reading comprehension using only those topics that students have been taught. Teachers can do this, but testing companies can’t—how would they have any idea what topics have been taught in each grade? It’s rare for districts, much less states, to indicate what or when specific books, people, ideas, and events should be taught.

Without a curriculum on which to base their assessments, testing companies have devised their own logic—which is sound given the bind they’re in. They distinguish between common and specialized knowledge, and then they select or write test passages that only have common knowledge. In essence, they’ve defined “reading comprehension skill” as including broad common knowledge. This is perfectly reasonable. When educators, parents, etc. think about reading comprehension ability, they do not think of the ability to read about trains or dolphins or lightning. They expect the ability to read about pretty much anything one encounters in daily life (including the news).

I already had this basic understanding, but still I found the “ETS Guidelines for Fairness Review of Assessments” eye opening. Guideline 1 is to “avoid cognitive sources of construct-irrelevant variance…. If construct-irrelevant knowledge or skill is required to answer an item and the knowledge or skill is not equally distributed across groups, then the fairness of the item is diminished” (p. 8). It continues, growing murkier:

Avoid unnecessarily difficult language. Use the most accessible level of language that is consistent with valid measurement…. Difficult words and language structures may be used if they are important for validity. For example, difficult words may be appropriate if the purpose of the test is to measure depth of general vocabulary or specialized terminology within a subject-matter area. It may be appropriate to use a difficult word if the word is defined in the test or its meaning is made clear by context. Complicated language structures may be appropriate if the purpose of the test is to measure the ability to read challenging material.

Avoid unnecessarily specialized vocabulary unless such vocabulary is important to the construct being assessed. What is considered unnecessarily specialized requires judgment. Take into account the maturity and educational level of the test takers in deciding which words are too specialized.

On page 10, it offers this handy table that “provides examples of common words that are generally acceptable and examples of specialized words that should be avoided…. The words are within several content areas known to be likely sources of construct-irrelevant knowledge”:

ETS table 1

Since having good reading comprehension means being able to read about a wide variety of common topics, table 1 seems just fine. But testing companies’ silence about what their reading comprehension tests actually measure is not. They say they are measuring “reading comprehension skill,” but their guidelines show that they are measuring a vaguely defined body of “common knowledge.”

Common words are not common to all. Even “common” knowledge is knowledge that must be taught, and right now—at home and at school—far too many children from low-income homes don’t have an opportunity to learn that knowledge (which is common to youth from middle-class and wealthy homes). That’s why reading comprehension scores are so strongly and stubbornly correlated with socioeconomic status.

These tests of “common” knowledge are accurate assessments and predictors of reading comprehension ability; but they are not fair or productive tests for holding children (and their teachers) accountable before an opportunity to learn has been provided.

If all testing companies would clearly explain that their reading comprehension tests are tests of knowledge, and if they would explain—as the ACT’s Chrys Dougherty does—that the only way to prepare for them is to build broad knowledge, then we could begin to create a fair and productive assessment and accountability system. Before the end of high school, all students should have broad enough knowledge to perform well on a reading comprehension test. But what about in third, fourth, or even seventh grade? In the early and middle grades, is a test drawn only from topics that have been taught in school the only fair way to test reading comprehension? How many years of systematically teaching “common” knowledge are needed before a reading comprehension test that is not tied to the curriculum is fair, especially for a student whose opportunities to learn outside of school are minimal?

The answer depends not so much on the test as on what is done with the scores. If we accepted the fact that reading comprehension depends on broad knowledge, we would radically alter our accountability policies. Scores on “common knowledge” reading comprehension tests would be recognized as useful indicators of where students are in their journey toward broad knowledge—they would not be mistaken for indicators of teaching quality or children’s capacity. Instead of holding schools accountable for scores on tests with content that is not tied to the curriculum, we would hold them accountable for creating a content-rich, comprehensive, well-sequenced curriculum and delivering it in a manner that ensures equal opportunity to learn. To narrow the inevitable gaps caused by differences in out-of-school experiences, we would dramatically increase free weekend and summer enrichment opportunities (for toddlers to teenagers) in lower-income neighborhoods. (We would also address a range of health-related disparities, but that’s a topic for another day.)

In sum, reading comprehension really does rely on having a great deal of common knowledge, so our current reading comprehension tests really are valid and reliable. To make them fair and productive, children from lower-income families must be given an equal opportunity to learn the knowledge that is “common” to children from higher-income homes.

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Reading is always a test of knowledge (image courtesy of Shutterstock).

Testing: From the Mouths of Babes

by Lisa Hansel
May 8th, 2014

“No one learns from state tests. It’s testing what you know. You’re not learning anything from it.”

 —12th grader

“I like math or spelling tests better [than state accountability tests] because you can study for them. For the [state accountability tests], I wonder what will be on them this time.”

 —5th grader

“I like pre- and post-tests because you get to see the progress you’ve made.”

—4th grader

Is it just me, or do these kids know a whole lot more about assessment and increasing educational achievement than most state and national policymakers? Far too many policymakers seem to have lost sight of the most important goal of assessment and accountability: increasing learning. They seem stuck on accountability for the sake of accountability, unwilling to ask whether assessment dollars could be used more effectively.

I’m not against accountability—and I think assessment is necessary—but I am for allocating time and money in the most effective ways. So I find these students’ thoughts, and the new study in which they appear, pretty compelling. The study is Make Assessment Matter, by the Northwest Evaluation Association in cooperation with Grunwald Associates LLC. It explores students’ (4th – 12th graders), teachers’, and administrators’ views on all sorts of testing—from classroom quizzes to state accountability tests. Conclusion: “There is an urgency felt on the part of students, teachers and district administrators to emphasize assessment for learning rather than for accountability. The overwhelming preference for all parties is that assessment results be used to inform learning.” Sadly, today’s state tests not only don’t inform learning, they seem to be impeding it: “teachers (70 percent) and district administrators (55 percent) … [say] that the focus on state accountability tests takes too much time away from learning.”

Think about the weeks that are lost to state accountability tests each year as you absorb these key findings:

On the one hand, the vast majority of students, boys and girls, say they try hard on most tests and care about doing well on tests, among other findings that indicate how seriously they take tests and learning. On the other hand, some boys (46 percent) and girls (39 percent) say that tests are a waste of time.

It’s clear that students feel that certain kinds of tests are not very relevant to their learning, and so it’s not surprising to hear some students identify tests as a waste of time. In tandem with other findings, the message is clear: students want high-quality, engaging assessments that are tightly connected to learning….

Like students, teachers and district administrators would prefer to focus on tests that inform student learning. Most teachers (54 percent), and the vast majority of district administrators (89 percent), say that the ideal focus of assessments should be frequently tracking student performance and providing daily or weekly feedback in the classroom. This sentiment tracks with students’ attitudes about tests. Students express overwhelming agreement that tests are important for helping them and their teachers know if they are making progress in their learning and for understanding what they are learning.

Teachers say that teacher-developed classroom tests, performance tasks and formative assessment practice work best for supporting student learning in their classrooms, while state accountability tests are the least effective.

For an assessment to matter, it has to be directly tied to what is being studied in the classroom. For students to care about it, they need to be able to study for it and use the results in meaningful ways.

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Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

That sounds perfectly reasonable to me. So, what are the logical implications for states? I see two options. One is to use Advanced Placement as a model: create detailed, content-specific courses and develop tests that only assess material in the course. I know it’s unheard of in state accountability testing, but I am actually being so crazy as to say that states should test students on the topics, books, people, ideas, events, etc. that they have been taught.

If state policymakers can’t stomach the idea of specifying the content to teach and test—if they can’t honor students’ desire to be tested in ways that inform learning—then they must honor students’ desire to not have their time wasted: make the tests zero stakes with zero test prep (like NAEP). Any test that is not tied to the specific content being studied in the classroom is a test of general knowledge and skills. Such a test can provide an informative snapshot of students’ and schools’ relative performance (and thus which schools and communities are in need of added supports). It can’t, however, indicate how any one student acquired her knowledge and skills (could be the teacher, the tutor that mom hired in October, the soccer coach who demands higher grades, the new librarian in town, finally being given eyeglasses, etc.). And therefore it can’t offer any precise indication of either teacher quality or how the student could improve. If a state wants to give a test that measures general abilities and provides nothing more than a snapshot and a trend line, that’s fine—provided the stakes and the prep time are minimized.

My preference, obviously, is for option one—especially if states would have the good sense to involve hundreds of educators in developing the specific content to be taught and assessed. Not only would the state-controlled, culminating test be useful for learning, in preparing for it teachers could use effective practices like frequent quizzing on essential content.

 

With Knowledge, You’re Never Lost

by Lisa Hansel
April 30th, 2014

Like many in the education world, I spend much of April and May wondering about U.S. testing and accountability policies. When you add up the time spent on benchmark testing, test-prep (especially the part devoted to item format, as opposed to reviewing essential knowledge and skills), testing, and grading, is that really a good use of our school days? Data to inform instruction and decision making are necessary, but do teachers, administrators, or even policymakers get what they need from the tests currently being given (or developed)? Is there a better way to improve educational outcomes?

Pretty much every article on testing this season has sent my mind spinning down these paths. I mean, really, who thought NCLB would still exist in 2014? We knew from the get-go that 100% proficient was a fairy tale. Can we please start thinking about education policy realistically? Can we be brave enough to offer clarity as to what we are trying to accomplish? With that clarity, can we find the fortitude to proceed patiently, rationally, and supportively so that (like more reasonable nations) we can attain our goals?

Probably not. But I’m not ready to give up.

Core Knowledge has a specific answer as to what it is trying to accomplish. So do all schools that have taken the time to create—and that make ongoing investments in enhancing—a detailed curriculum. Such schools should also be able to devise tests that support teaching and learning, as well as produce evidence of their educational accomplishments.

Logically, this is where I should explain the evidence that a Core Knowledge-based curriculum is effective. You can follow the link if you want. I’d rather offer an example. Call it an anecdote. Dismiss it. In a different frame of mind I might to the same. But in testing season, this example resonates with me. It’s a reminder that knowledge is inherently useful and valuable.

So, how do I know Core Knowledge works? Because it worked for an engaging lady from South Carolina who took the time to handwrite a three-page letter to E. D. Hirsch:

I am ninety-four years old and have wondered all my life about the answers to a few questions…. One being, if I am alone and lost in the woods and there is no sun and I have no compass, how do I know where North is?

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Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

When she asked her librarian, she received a clear answer in What Your Second Grader Needs to Know, which is in the preschool through sixth-grade series Hirsch wrote for parents.

I was so impressed that I read the whole book, then asked the librarian for Book One. When finished I asked for Book Three, then Four, then Five and finished with Book Six. I was not so fortunate as the children of today, having been brought up during the Depression when I had to quit the Sophomore year of High School and go to work….

I have learned so much more from your books that my grade school didn’t teach me. I wish that all elementary schools were required to use Core Knowledge Series. Every subject was so enlightening, interesting, and helpful for me. Thank you.

How would this ninety-four-year-old student do on a standardized test, even one for fifth or sixth graders? I don’t know (she’d probably need several days of drilling on educationally irrelevant test-taking strategies). But I know she’ll never be lost in the woods. And—more importantly—I know that because she read the first through sixth grade books, she has the broad knowledge she needs to learn more each day. To grasp the scientific, political, economic, and arts topics covered in her chosen news source. To have lively debates with her neighbors. To be a well-informed voter. To show her great-grandchildren that knowledge is enlightening, interesting, and helpful.

Will The SAT Overhaul Help Achieve Equity?

by Guest Blogger
April 24th, 2014

By Burnie Bond

Burnie Bond is the director of programs at the Albert Shanker Institute. This post originally appeared on the Shanker Blog on April 22, 2014.

The College Board, the organization behind the SAT, acknowledges that historically its tests have been biased in favor of the children of wealthy, well-educated elites—those who live in the best zip codes, are surrounded by books, go to the best-regarded schools (both public and private), enjoy summer enrichment programs, and can avail themselves of as much tutoring and SAT test-prep coaching as they need. That’s why, early last month, College Board president David Coleman announced that the SAT would undergo significant changes, with the aim of making it more fair and equitable for disadvantaged students.

Among the key changes, which are expected to take effect in 2016, are: the democratization of access to test-prep courses (by trying to make them less necessary and entering into an agreement with the Khan Academy to offer free, online practice problems*); ensuring that every exam includes a reading passage from one of the nation’s “founding documents,” such as the Declaration of Independence or the Bill of Rights, or from one of the important discussions of such texts, such as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “Letter From Birmingham Jail”; and replacing “arcane ‘SAT words’ (‘depreciatory,’ ‘membranous’),” with words that are more “commonly used in college courses, such as ‘synthesis’ and ‘empirical.’” (See here.)

Will this help? Well, maybe, but the SAT’s long heldbut always elusive—mission to help identify and reward merit, rather than just privilege, will only be met insofar as its creators can be sure that all students have had an equal opportunity to learn these particular vocabulary words and have read these particular “founding documents” and texts. That is, it comes down to a question of curriculum.

Curriculum and Equity

The connection between curriculum and equity first occurred to me when I was eight years old (though obviously not in those exact terms). For some reason, my school decided that all third graders needed to have an IQ test. I was sick that day, so one school holiday I found myself filling in bubbles alone in a classroom with Mrs. Beagles, the school’s assistant principal.

All was well until I got to one particular question. Since the test designers couldn’t be sure we could read well, many of the questions were in picture form. This one included a series of line drawings. As I recall, the first was a drawing of a boy in a ski jacket standing on a beach; the second showed a boy in swim trunks and a beach ball standing in the snow near a snowman; the third had the same swim-trunked, beach ball kid standing in sand near a big cactus; and the fourth had the ski jacket boy standing near the snowman. The question was: Which one didn’t belong?

Although I knew the “right” answer, I found myself wondering how they could just assume that I should. Having never left the tropical island of St. Croix, I had not yet been in winter or seen snow or a snowman. And, although some cactus varieties could be found out on the island’s East End, we had no real desert either. Our textbooks had not yet covered the relevant units on physical geography, and my book-loving father had only allowed a television into our house about six months beforehand. I then started wondering how many of my classmates might have thought that the ski jacket was some elaborate water flotation outfit, and how many would have been confused because we all regularly swam at East End beaches with cacti in plain sight. For that matter, what about kids on the mainland who grew up in cities or in the Midwest and who had never been to a beach or seen a desert?

Irate over the unfairness of it all, I complained to Mrs. Beagles, who replied, “Just do the best that you can,” and returned to grading papers.

I found myself thinking about this episode as I read a very interesting 2012 paper by Santelices and Wilson, whose research gave credence to an earlier paper by Freedle (also here)—the upshot of which is that the SAT Verbal continues to be biased against poor and minority students in a very particular way. That is, test takers who are African American, Hispanic-American, Asian American, or White from low-income households tend to do disproportionately well on the “hard” questions and disproportionately poorly on the “easy” ones.

In his 2003 Harvard Educational Review article, Freedle explains:

A culturally based interpretation helps explain why African American examinees (and other minorities) often do better on many hard verbal items but do worse than matched-ability Whites on many easy items. To begin with, easy analogy items tend to contain high-frequency vocabulary words while hard analogy items tend to contain low-frequency vocabulary words (Freedle & Kostin, 1997). For example, words such as “horse,” “snake,” “canoe,” and “golf” have appeared in several easy analogy items. These are words used frequently in everyday conversations. By contrast, words such as “vehemence,” “anathema,” “sycophant,” and “intractable” are words that have appeared in hard analogy items, and do not appear in everyday conversation (Berger, 1977). However, they are likely to occur in school-related contexts or in textbooks.

In other words, kids who are somewhat outside of the cultural mainstream do less well on items built around assumptions about common knowledge—the words and ideas that are “used frequently in everyday conversations.”  But what if your language or culture or social standing diminishes the chances that you actually engage in everyday conversations about golfing or canoes? In that case, it makes perfect sense to expect that you would do better on the “harder”—even the “arcane”—school-related items that are built around the words, ideas, and texts that you have actually been taught.

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Photo courtesy of Shutterstock.

Or, put another way: Assessments of student learning are neither fair nor valid unless they measure only the content and skills that students have actually been given the opportunity to learn. And the only way to do that, of course, is to know what they have been taught—that is, in the presence of a defined curriculum.

The Problem with Curriculum

There are some very good reasons why the United States, unlike most of the world’s highest-performing nations, has avoided adopting a national curriculum for all of these years. As David K. Cohen has noted:

For school systems around the world, the infrastructure commonly includes student curricula or curriculum frameworks, exams to assess students’ learning of the curricula, instruction that centers on teaching that curriculum, and teacher education that aims to help prospective teachers learn how to teach the curricula. The U.S. has had no such common and unifying infrastructure for schools, owing in part to fragmented government (including local control) and traditions of weak state guidance about curriculum and teacher education.

Another huge issue is that “curriculum” has become a catch-all that describes everything from general performance standards all the way to student texts with scripted daily lesson plans. Thus, in any given discussion about the role of curriculum in a well functioning school system, it is very likely that the discussants are actually talking past each other. This has led to many unintentionally amusing statementsresponses and counter-responses, as each “side” tries to clarify what it and others are actually trying to promote and/or oppose.

In terms of equity concerns, I think that E. D. Hirsch has it exactly right. That is, we need to make sure that every American student—regardless of economic, geographic, racial or ethnic background—is provided with a “coherent, cumulative, and content-specific core curriculum” (see here, but also hereherehere and here).

As Hirsch uses the term, the “curriculum” should provide enough guidance to teachers to ensure that what is taught will prepare students for the learning that comes next, while remaining flexible enough for teachers (or schools or districts) to decide for themselves which specific materials and instructional approaches best meet the needs of any particular set of students. He uses the term “core” to mean both that which is most important, which should be taught in common to all students, as well as that which is foundational to the more personalized courses of study that students may choose for themselves during their high-school years. Thus, Hirsch’s Core Knowledge Sequence, which covers pre-K to 8th grade, could also be described as a curriculum framework or syllabus—a coherent “outline of the subjects in a course of study.”

It is no accident that Hirsch’s theory of action also squares with a great deal of national and international research suggesting that schools with greater curricular and instructional coherence achieve greater improvement in student performance (herehere and here).

So what might this look like in practice? In a 2003 Educational Researcher article, Lisa Delpit has given a rationale for why schools need to provide all students with access to “the culture of power”:

In my work in dozens of successful classrooms, effective teachers of low-income students of color take every opportunity to introduce children to complex material. While children are learning to “decode,” teachers read complex information to children above their reading level and engage in discussions about the information and the advanced vocabulary they encounter. Students are involved in activities that use the information and vocabulary in both creative and analytical ways, and teachers help them create metaphors for the new knowledge that connects it to their real lives. Students memorize and dramatize material that involves advanced vocabulary and linguistic forms. Students are engaged in thematic units that are ongoing and repeat important domain knowledge and develop vocabulary through repeated oral use. Students are asked to explain what they have learned to others, thus solidifying new knowledge. Not only do the teachers and schools who are successful with low-income children practice these strategies, but some other researchers (Beck et al., 2002Hirsch, 2003Stahl, 1991Sternberg, 1987, to name but a few) have documented the efficacies of the strategies as well. Successful instruction is constant, rigorous, integrated across disciplines, connected to students’ lived cultures, connected to their intellectual legacies, engaging, and designed for critical thinking and problem solving that is useful beyond the classroom.

Will the new SAT—or, for that matter, the new Common Core State Standards, which David Coleman also had a large hand in crafting—lead us toward this vision of educational opportunity? That is yet to be seen, but I would have much more confidence in the outcome if each state department of education had begun with a focus on teaching to the new standards, rather than just testing them. Where are the rich curriculum resources and professional development opportunities that would allow this vision to take hold? And, failing this, what exactly is it that we propose to measure?

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* Paradoxically, although the data confirm the expected class-based differences in the use of test prep courses, it should be noted that “blacks and Hispanics are more likely than whites from comparable backgrounds to utilize test preparation. The black-white gap is especially pronounced in the use of high school courses, private courses and private tutors.” See here for more on this.

 

Federal Policy, Teacher Effects

by Lisa Hansel
March 5th, 2014

My objective today is to put words in a few prominent researchers’ mouths—or better yet, their paper, “Learning that Lasts: Unpacking Variation in Teachers’ Effects on Students’ Long-Term Knowledge.” Benjamin Master, Susanna Loeb, and James Wyckoff have posted online a “preliminary draft,” which no one is supposed to cite. Blogging, I assume with all online content, is fair game. This paper is terrifically important. I just want to see a draft that more fully discusses the many factors that contribute to teacher effects.

Let’s start with why this paper is worth your time: It’s a blockbuster for those worried about the negative consequences of annual high-stakes test-based teacher evaluations. Looking at the long-term impact of teachers with high value added, the researchers conclude:

Evaluation and accountability systems may incentive educators to focus excessively on short-term tested outcomes in ways that are not ultimately beneficial for students…. Collectively, this body of evidence demonstrates that teachers’ instructional practices can influence their short-term value-added performance in ways that do not correspond with long-term success for students…. Overall, our results demonstrate that teachers’ effects on students’ long-term skills can vary substantially and systematically, in ways that are not fully captured by short-term value-added measures of instructional quality.

We clearly need education policy to incentivize (or at least not impede) meaningful educational gains, so I hope policymakers will heed this research.

To increase the odds that they will heed it, the paper needs one quick little addition: more forceful acknowledgement that teachers’ effects are influenced by many factors. Several federal and state policies could be explored as means of positively influencing curriculum and instruction. This is not simply a teacher issue. It is a standards, curriculum, assessment, accountability, teacher preparation, professional development, leadership, and resource-allocation issue.

Is it really these researchers’ job to remind readers of the broader context? No. It’s just something that, given the importance of the issue, I’m hoping they’ll want to note.

Barack_Obama_through_a_magnifying_glass

When it comes to teacher effects, context matters.

Reading this paper, it’s easy to get swept up in thinking the teacher makes all the difference. For example, the more academic knowledge teachers have, the more they seem to infuse that in their instruction, to great effect:

The within-subject value-added persistence of ELA teachers who attended a more competitive undergraduate institution is significantly and substantially higher than that of teachers who attended a less competitive institution…. Differences in persistence are similarly large when comparing teachers whose SAT Verbal exam scores or LAST licensure exam scores are in the top third of the teacher distribution, in comparison to lower-scoring teachers. In both cases, higher scoring teachers show greater persistence…. It is notable that our teacher ability characteristics predict large differences in ELA teachers’ value-added persistence, even though they are not themselves correlated with teachers’ short-term value-added effects.

One might be tempted to think these direct teacher effects are simply teacher-quality issues. But nothing in education is so simple. Ask yourself: what’s likely to make a person with the potential to have lasting effects want to be a teacher for years to come? Rigorous standards and engaging curriculum, meaningful assessments that support instruction, accountability policies that don’t incentivize test prep, academically demanding preparation programs, tailored professional development, helpful leaders, etc.

Much of the paper is devoted to examining potential student- vs. teacher-level drivers of the variation in teachers’ long-term impact. That, obviously, is a key question—I just want to see more acknowledgement that the “teacher effects” are federal-, state-, district-, and school-policy effects. Here’s the heart of the research:

Observable student characteristics related to their socio-economic status or prior ability also predict substantial variation in their ELA teachers’ value-added persistence. The persistence of achievement gains coming from having an effective teacher is far lower for students who are eligible for free lunch, are black or Hispanic, or whose twice-lagged ELA achievement scores are below the mean…. These students may be receiving ELA instruction that is less focused on long-term knowledge, or they may be less skilled at acquiring or retaining long-term knowledge.

Ultimately, the researchers conclude the primary issue is likely “instruction that is less focused on long-term knowledge”:

We see evidence of the importance of instruction in the positive association between teachers’ academic ability and their contributions to students’ long-term knowledge. Even more compelling, we find that schools that serve more disadvantaged students or that hire fewer of these high-ability teachers have lower value-added persistence in ELA for all of their students. Students, regardless of their prior test performance, who attend schools with many low-performing students demonstrate lower persistence of the learning gains they achieve from having a high value-added teacher. The persistence in low-achieving schools is less than half the rate of that in other schools. These findings provide evidence that instructional quality is a key driver of the variation that we observe in value-added persistence, and that school-level curriculum or instructional norms may foster differences in instructional quality. Unfortunately, we are unable to directly observe the instructional practices of teachers or schools in our sample. However, in light of prior research on educators’ responses to high stakes accountability pressures … one plausible explanation for our findings could be that schools serving lower performing students systematically prioritize gains in short-term tested achievement in ways that detract from teachers’ focus on long-term knowledge generation.

As I’ve said, there’s a whole lot beyond “school-level curriculum or instructional norms” that “may foster differences in instructional quality.” The authors of this paper know that—and it’s certainly not their fault that many policymakers need to be reminded. But they do. And if more policymakers get the message that we have a multifaceted, highly complex problem to address, perhaps more desperately needed research dollars will be provided and more varied policies will be piloted.

World Studies Could Make a World of Difference

by Lisa Hansel
November 5th, 2013

In my last post, I tossed out a not-quite-baked idea for a new academic major for elementary teachers: World Studies. That major would ensure teachers have the broad range of knowledge they need to introduce our students to the world via literature, history, geography, science, mathematics, and the arts.

One point that is obvious to the Core Knowledge community—yet somehow shocking and mysterious to most of the education world—is that before we could decide what academics future teachers need to study in their prep programs, we need to decide what all elementary students must learn. Drum roll: We need a core K-5 curriculum.

 

Refusing to identify and teach essential knowledge has consequences. (Image courtesy of Shutterstock.)

 

Some people might think we kinda sorta have a core curriculum with the Common Core standards. In math, I would agree—the actual math that has to be mastered each year is specified. It’s far from a full-blown curriculum, but it does provide concrete guidance on what math to teach. However, the Common Core ELA standards are nearly content free. They indicate the reading, writing, listening, and speaking skills students need to develop, but they do not outline content to be taught grade by grade. Instead, the ELA standards call on schools to create content-rich curricula infused with nonfiction texts, thereby systematically building broad knowledge across academic subjects.

I am grateful that the Common Core ELA standards explain the benefits of building knowledge. In implementation, schools need to realize that when they forge ahead without any shared core of content for each grade, they miss out on the many benefits of a coherent educational system. I’ve written about the problems with student mobility; today I want to share a terrific, little-known article by education professor David Cohen. In “Learning to Teach Nothing in Particular,” he explains the massive leaps forward we could make in student and teacher evaluation if only we specified what students are supposed to know:

Because local control and weak government were the foundations of U.S. public education, most of our school systems never developed the common instruments that are found in many national school systems…. These include a common curriculum or curriculum frameworks, common examinations tied to the curriculum, teacher education grounded in learning to teach the curriculum that students are to learn, and a teaching force whose members succeeded in those curriculum-based exams as students, among other things. Teachers who work with such infrastructure have instruments that they can use to set academic tasks tied to curriculum and assessment. They have a common vocabulary with which they can work together to identify, investigate, discuss, and solve problems of teaching and learning. Hence, they can have professional knowledge and skill, held in common….

Because there is no common infrastructure for U.S. public education, it has developed several anomalous features. One of the most important concerns testing: because there is no common curriculum, it is impossible to devise tests that assess the extent of students’ mastery of that curriculum. So, even though we’ve been testing student learning for nearly 100 years, only isolated programs (such as Advanced Placement and International Baccalaureate) have tested whether students learned what they were supposed to have been taught. In the early 1900s, when E. L. Thorndike and his colleagues and students invented tests of students’ academic performance, they devised tests that were designed to be independent of any particular curriculum. Nonetheless, those tests, and more recently developed similar tests, were and are used to assess students’ progress in learning. That has to rank as one of the strangest creations in the history of education.

Teacher education is a second anomaly: absent a common curriculum, teachers-in-training could not learn how to teach it, let alone how to teach it well. Hence, teacher education consists of efforts to teach future teachers to teach no particular curriculum. This is very strange, since to teach is always to teach something, but the governance structure of U.S. education has long forbidden the specification of what that something would be. For the most part, teacher education has been accommodating: typically, teacher candidates are taught how to teach no particular version of their subjects. That arrangement creates no incentives for those training to be teachers to learn, relatively deeply, what they would teach, nor does it create incentives for teacher educators to learn how to help teacher candidates learn how to teach a particular curriculum well. Instead, it offers incentives for them to teach novices whatever the teacher educators think is interesting or important (which often is not related to what happens in schools) or to offer a generic sort of teacher education. Most teachers report that, after receiving a teaching degree, they arrived in schools with little or no capability to teach particular subjects….

Absent a common curriculum, common assessments, common measures of performance, and teacher education tied to these things, it will be terribly difficult to devise technically valid and educationally usable means to judge and act on teaching performance. Building a coherent educational system would be a large task, but not nearly as daunting as trying to solve our educational problems without building such a system. Without standards and measures of quality practice—grounded in linked curriculum, assessments, and teacher education—it will be impossible to build a knowledgeable occupation of teaching, and a knowledgeable occupation is the only durable solution to the problem of quality in teaching.

 

Promethean Plan: A Teacher on Fulfilling the Intent of the Common Core, Part 2

by Guest Blogger
August 15th, 2013

By Mark Anderson

Mark Anderson, who became a NYC Teaching Fellow after working in retail and hospitality management, now teaches at Jonas Bronck Academy in the Bronx. His writing on educational improvement has appeared in Gotham Schools, the Times Union, VIVA Teachers, and other venues. Anderson also creates educational videos, including one that summarizes this blog post on fulfilling the intent of the Common Core.

In part 1 of this three-part series, Anderson discusses why skills-based teaching should no longer be predominant in ELA. In part 3, he discusses the dangers of infantilizing teachers.

 

Prometheus statue, University of Minho

 

Mistake #2: Placing the burden of teaching literacy entirely on ELA

As I noted in my last post, I believe the Common Core standards open a window of opportunity for systematically building students’ knowledge as teachers shift from “just-right texts” to complex texts. Another potentially transformative shift of the Common Core standards is the acknowledgment that literacy extends across all content areas. This is explicitly recognized by the standards in two ways: 1) the inclusion of literacy standards for social studies, science, and technical subjects in grades 6 – 12; and 2) the demand for an increase in informational texts.

Under key design considerations in the introduction to the literacy standards, Common Core’s authors state that the inclusion of social studies, science, and technical subjects “reflects the unique, time-honored place of ELA teachers in developing students’ literacy skills while at the same time recognizing that teachers in other areas must have a role in this development as well” (bold added).

They furthermore point out that “because the ELA classroom must focus on literature (stories, drama, and poetry) as well as literary nonfiction, a great deal of informational reading in grades 6–12 must take place in other classes” (bold added).

Yet within schools, these points are all too easily ignored or misconstrued. ELA teachers are evaluated by the literacy tests that their students are required to take. One of the greatest frustrations of being an ELA teacher, in fact, is that we are tested on factors that are often beyond our control, such as our students’ domain-specific knowledge. It’s no wonder, then, that many ELA teachers resort to skills-based teaching, grimly attempting to boost test scores by bolstering superficial, isolated skills.

That domain-specific knowledge is essential to literacy is a point that has been already been made much more cogently by others—such as Daniel Willingham, E. D. Hirsch, and Robert Pondiscio—and that is apparent in research. In my personal experience, I frequently teach students who are quite familiar with the skill of “inferencing,” for example, yet display little ability to make an accurate inference.

During my first years of teaching at my former elementary school, we had noted from our students’ literacy assessment data that inferencing was a deficient skill across all tested grades. All of us set about diligently teaching the skill. After going through a cycle or two of grade-level team “inquiry” on this skill, something slowly became apparent to me: our students couldn’t make accurate inferences because they didn’t understand what they were reading. The problem wasn’t lack of inferencing skill, it was lack of knowledge. This is when I first realized that we were failing our students because we didn’t have a coherent curriculum. Forget inferencing. Before we could do inquiry on anything, we had to have a solid, structured curriculum in place to refer to so that we could align what we were teaching across our classrooms and grades, and therefore address gaps in students’ knowledge and skills.

In most elementary schools, ELA is given heavy prominence, often to the detriment of music, arts, social studies, and science, as ELA test scores weigh heavily on schools’ performance. Yet this establishes a demoralizing catch-22, in that the domain-specific knowledge necessary for reading comprehension is then unable to be acquired.

If the research foundation and intent of the Common Core—to build the broad knowledge that is essential to literacy—remains unrecognized, then a simple and devastating misunderstanding of Common Core’s emphasis on “informational” texts will occur: ELA will avoid most literature altogether and focus on disparate expository texts instead, leaving us back at square one—an utter lack of coherency or of a systematic accumulation of knowledge.

The burden for literacy cannot remain on the shoulders of ELA alone. Literature, including literary nonfiction, is essential for gaining an understanding of the world, but it must be backed by domain-specific knowledge in other content areas.

In elementary school, this means that administrators need to shift their focus from ELA to social studies, science, arts, and music, and ensure that 90-minute literacy blocks are used to build knowledge, not simply to conduct independent reading and writing. This can be done most strategically by selecting a coherent body of texts for teacher read-alouds and whole class or small group exploration. In middle and high school, this means that social studies, science, and technical content area teachers need to be on board with also being teachers of literacy, and must be trained on the selection and teaching of texts that will build content-specific knowledge.

At my middle school, my grade-level team began developing this understanding by exploring the Common Core standards together. We discovered that the expectation that students would be able to cite evidence, read and comprehend complex grade-level texts, and write arguments that exhibit logical reasoning and address counterclaims extended across ELA, social studies, and science. Not only that, we found that argumentative standards in literacy closely aligned with expectations for mathematical practice, in that students were expected to construct viable arguments and critique the reasoning of others. Here is the initial document my team created to review and compare these argumentative standards.

Such an exploration, however, is only a foot in the door. Now we must consider how we can share strategies for teaching close reading, what qualitative and quantitative methods we can use to select grade-level complex texts, and in what way we can align these strategies across departments and grades. Furthermore, this also requires a shift on the part of us ELA teachers: we must be now be willing to consider how the texts and content we teach will align and build on the content taught in other classrooms.

While such an undertaking may appear daunting at first, the opportunity to collaborate on interdisciplinary papers, projects, and tasks is invigorating both for teachers and for students. At the end of the last school year, my ELA department began working with our social studies department to consider how we could align our poetry units with their units. We discovered that all social studies units shared a common theme of warfare, so we began selecting poems on warfare that would build on this theme and extend and enrich student understanding of multiple perspectives on war. This ability to strategically build on student knowledge strengthened student engagement, as students were able dive deeper into poems such as “Night in Blue” by Brian Turner and “Dulce et Decorum Est” by Wilfred Owen by drawing upon their knowledge of the experience of soldiers in traumatic modern wars.

Here’s one short-term measure we could take to ensure that the burden for teaching literacy does not fall only on the shoulders of ELA teachers:

  • Common Core-aligned literacy assessments should hold all the teachers for a grade level accountable.

Wait, what? You read that right. Make all the teachers on a grade level accountable for student performance on literacy tests. It might sound crazy, and I’m sure it will complicate the pristine “value-added” formulas that have been cooked up to evaluate individual teachers, but it’s the most effective means to ensure that schools actualize the teaching of knowledge as the key to literacy. So long as the burden of accountability for literacy tests falls solely to the domain of ELA, then the teaching of literacy will fall solely on the backs of ELA teachers, and the other content areas will therefore continue to be treated as secondary as testing hysteria arises during the year.

In the schools I have worked in, this hysteria is the inevitable accompaniment to high stakes testing. Teachers, despite themselves, begin referencing “the test” as a raison d’être of lessons. During this run up to testing, roughly December through May, a school’s frenetic focus is on ELA and math, with extra weekend and afterschool sessions piled on to reinforce all those isolated skills for good measure.

But now imagine if literacy were acknowledged as a grade-level team’s main objective. All hands would be on deck to ensure that content—across all domains—would be systematically taught and reinforced. In other words, we’d be doing what we should have been doing all along.

Longer term measures we could take to ensure that teaching literacy extends across content areas:

  • Schedule time each week for grade-level teacher teams to meet and collaborate on curriculum and pedagogy.
  • Include a focus on selecting and teaching complex texts in content-specific teacher training.